


Together Forever...Or Else

by emjellybean



Category: Jacksepticeye (RPF), Markiplier RPF, MarkiplierGAME (RPF), Youtube (RPF)
Genre: Dark, Dark Jacksepticeye, Dark Markiplier, Darkiplier - Freeform, Darksepticeye, Emotional Manipulation, Kind of Murder Boyfriends, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Gore, angsty, antisepticeye, but happy, to be sad or not to be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emjellybean/pseuds/emjellybean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, Jack meets Mark when the man breaks into his house, not knowing that it wouldn't just be a one time thing, but it would be something that would change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of my thingy! Hope you guys like it ^^

Mark had been watching Jack from afar for a while. He was interested in him, intrigued even, which was something he never really experienced in people before. People were usually so boring, so dull, and if they were unique, they were unique in the wrong way, a way that he disliked. Jack was different though. He's such a nice young man, both in the looks department and in how he executed the work that he did. Mark liked his precision and the way his hands looked covered in blood. He liked how oblivious he was to the fact that Mark had been patiently watching him for over a year, waiting for a good time to introduce himself.  
  
After so much time, he finally found it.  
  
-  
  
Jack was laying on his bed in his apartment, on the verge of sleep when he heard a noise, subtle, but still there. His eyes snapped open and he slid out of bed while at the same time reaching for the knife he kept near him. He moved to where he heard the faint sound of footsteps, knife clenched in his hand. No one ever came to his apartment this late at night and if they did, they would probably be trying to kill him. He wasn't going to die today or any time soon if he could help it.  
  
The noise abruptly stopped and he couldn't hear anything no matter how hard he channeled his hearing. It was like the man vanished, but he wasn't letting down his guard.  
  
Then, he felt a hand at his neck, grabbing from behind and he hadn't even realized his knife was gone until he gripped onto the person's hand with both of his own hands. He pulled the hand from his neck and bit it hard before turning around and kneeing the person in the stomach, hearing a quiet grunt that sounded like it came from a man. He couldn't see very much, only street lights barely illuminating both of their figures, but he knew the man now had the knife in his hand. He tried to think tactically, but didn't have the chance because the man came at him. He tried to dodge, but it was like the man knew exactly what he was going to do because he still slammed into him, pinning him to the floor, the mans legs on his, one hand holding both of Jack's wrists above his head.  
  
This guy was too good and he was going to die because of it. He was going to die because for whatever reason, this man was trying to kill him and he was better than Jack. He was beaten.  
  
The man held the knife to his neck, pressing lightly. He saw Jack open his mouth, about to say something, "Ah, ah, ah. Don't speak." He whispered, smirking, though the other couldn't see. He leaned closer to Jack, his face only an inch or so away from his. "Next time, try not to stop to think. Do and think. Multitask. I'm not disappointed, though. In fact, I'm glad you got in a hit. And a bite. Feisty one, aren't you?" His voice was teasing and playful, yet dark and wicked. He trailed the knife to Jack's collarbone, pressing just enough for him to bleed, not surprised when he didn't hear a peep from Jack, his pride too strong to show pain to someone he most likely considers an enemy and a threat. He leaned down and licked the blood away, sucking lightly at the cut to get all the liquid he could, savoring the metallic taste on his tongue. The taste so perfect and so addictive, but he knew he couldn't take any more...for now. He moved back to face Jack, whose emotions weren't apparent on his face, but it was all in his eyes and he almost laughed when he saw it, the mixed feelings of shock, arousal, and interest. "Remember me. Remember my voice. Remember my name: Mark." He stood up, leaving Jack there and headed for the door. "Oh, and by the way, when someone is inches from your face, you should bite their fucking nose off, then try to take their weapon and use it against them. Though...I guess if you would have done that, I would have had to kill you. Ha!" He stuck the knife in the wall. And then left, but not before giving a "Tootles" as a goodbye.  
  
Jack stayed where he was on the floor, trying to comprehend what just happened. He put his hand on his collarbone where the cut was, feeling that the blood was still flowing. He brought his fingers to his lips to suck off the blood, trying not to think about what the other man must have tasted and how he must have felt tasting it. He stood up to get a bandage, all the while thinking that he had a new guy around and he wasn't sure if this problem of his was necessarily a threat or not, but what he did know is that his name was Mark and he apparently really liked blood, which meant one wrong move could mean the end.  
  
-  
  
Jack was chasing after them, his victim. He made sure they ended up turning the wrong direction, bringing him further away from safety and closer to the dark, dead ends of the alley. Some people were so stupid, running into a place like that instead of going to a crowded area. He'd done kills here many times and they were always successful simply because he was smarter than the person he was hunting. As he trapped them in the corner, he thought of Mark. Mark, who he hadn't seen for a week after the first time they met. Anger built up in him suddenly and when he grabbed the person by the neck, squeezing to cut off their screams, he imagined Mark, not his face, but the voice. The only image he actually had of the man was a dark, well built, shadowy figure. He gripped his knife tightly and stabbed the man in the stomach, questions going through his mind as he repeatedly stabbed the man, letting the warm blood pour over his hand.  
   
Why didn't you kill me? Why did you come to my house? What do you want with me? Why me? What's your plan? Am I gonna be a toy to you? Who the fuck are you?  
  
Jack brought his bloody hand up to the shaking man's face, holding it. "What do you want from me?" He hissed the question, not talking to the man, but rather to himself, to the Mark that was in his mind. He tossed the man on the ground, planning on letting him bleed out. The whole Mark thing was messing with him and he'd only met the guy once. Maybe it was the fact that he attacked him, but didn't kill him and was giving his tips for 'next time' or maybe it was the fact that he'd cut his skin and drank his blood. Either way, he was pissed off because he was consuming his thoughts most of the time.  
  
He growled and kicked the man in the stomach, letting out more of his anger. "What. The. FUCK!" He yelled, sighing when he realized the man passed out. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to relax.  
  
"Come on, Jack. Don't let me ruin your fun."  
  
Jack spun around and saw Mark standing only a few feet away from him. "What do you want?" He was beyond angry now, his only desire was to stab him and watch him bleed, but he restrained himself because he knew that it wouldn't end well for him.  
  
"You." He answered simply, taking a step closer, cackling when he saw Jack grip his knife tighter and raise it slightly. "We both know you won't stab me."  
  
"Yeah? And how do you know that?"  
  
Mark smiled at him, an evil smile that made Jack's spine tingle. "I'm not gonna lie to you. I've been watching you for a while and I like you. There's something about you that's different from all the others." He stepped even closer, reaching out for the knife, taking it with ease. Just as he thought, Jack was beginning to understand that he shouldn't try to hurt him. He looked at the knife and grinned, throwing it off to the side and taking Jack's hand instead, looking at it before looking up at him. "I've seen you kill many times before. The way you handle your victims...Today wasn't like you because you were angry. Angry because I was all you could think about...am I right?"  
  
Jack watched him and nodded hesitantly.  
  
Mark nodded. "I've watched you get your hands soaked in blood, beating up your victims and killing them in a deliciously beautiful way, I've watched you screw up and get yourself hurt, I've watched you grow over the past year..."  
  
"Year? You've been watching me for a year and you decide to show your face now?"  
  
"I thought you were ready."  
  
"Ready for what?"  
  
"Jack...I want you to come with me. I want to hunt with you, kill with you. Get rid of all the people that do you harm, that cause you trouble or hold you back. You deserve to do what you want and be who you want, no one stopping you." He brought one of Jack's finger's up to his mouth and started to suck away the blood. He hummed and then smirked at Jack. "Doesn't taste nearly as good as yours." He spoke casually, darkness thick in his voice. "...what do you say?"  
  
Jack knew he needed to make the right choice. Like he'd thought before, it's all over if he makes one wrong move or one mistake. "Yeah, alright. I'll go with you."  
  
"Promise to stay with me?"  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Do you promise to take me, Mark Fischbach, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part?"  
  
Was he fucking serious? Wedding vows? He wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew that Mark would see this and he had to remember, one wrong move and it could kill him. "Yes, I promise."  
  
Mark tilted his head, looking at him expectantly, a small smile on his face.  
  
He was actually serious. "...I do." He couldn't believe that Mark just made him do that and now he was grinning at him.  
  
"And I take you, my lovely Sean, to have and to hold, from this day foreword, for better, for worse, and blah blah blah." He grabbed Jack's jaw roughly, not intending to hurt, but to command. "Now you're mine, you got that? You're mine, Jack, and you'll listen to what I say or else."  
  
What else could Jack do, but listen?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More things are happening! This will probably only be one or two more chapters at most, but I hope you guys enjoy the ride and try to understand, mostly Jack's mind, but also Mark's mind by the end of the story because understanding, if not fully, at least try to understand the way they think will really help you...well, understand why they do the things they do and stuff like that. :)  
> Hope you all enjoy~

Mark guided Jack to his house, trusting that he would follow. After all, he did know where he lives and he’d been following him for a year. He knew how to find him. He opened the door and gave a gesture for Jack to go in first before he walked inside himself, closing and locking the door behind them. 

Jack looked around, finding that the small house looked fairly normal on the inside, considering the type of person Mark was. Though, he couldn’t really say much. It’s not like the apartment he lived in himself was covered in blood and torture tools.

“Get used to this place because this is where you’ll be living from now on.”

“…what?”

“What? It’s not like anyone’s gonna miss you, right?”

“I have friends.”

“Then get rid of them.”

Jack shook his head. “No, I can’t get rid of them. They haven’t done anything wrong, anything to hurt me.”

“And your other victims have?”

Jack was silent, knowing that Mark was trying to prove a point.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” Mark shook his head in disappointment. “You see, that’s one of your flaws. You can kill others, whether they’re innocent or not, but once you get attached to someone, you can’t let them go.”

“…Don’t you have friends?”

“I did.” He sighed. “Then they found out what I’m like, what I do, and they wanted to try to ‘help me’.” He laughed. “Can you believe that? Helping me would have been letting me go do what I want, joining me, or just fucking off if they didn’t like it. But…I know now that that isn’t possible. People like them, the average human, they can’t do what we do, feel what we feel. They can’t understand it. I can guarantee the same thing is gonna happen to you. They’re gonna find out and then you’re gonna have to kill them.”

“But-“

“Or I’ll do it.” 

Jack stared at him, shock apparent on his face, this time, his emotions seeming to leak from his eyes to his face, showing Mark his true thoughts. 

“I want the best for you. They’re the people holding you back.” He put both of his hands on the sides of Jack’s neck and pressed their foreheads together, Jack suddenly realizing how close they actually were. Mark’s voice grew quieter. “If you kill them, you’ll be free.”

“I…” Jack’s defense was broken, eyes shined over with tears.

“Jack.” He spoke the name sweetly and lovingly, brushing Jack’s cheek with his thumb, tracing his bottom lip, staring into his eyes. Something changed in that moment. Everything Jack had thought before seemed to vanish by staring into Mark's loving eyes, feeling his tender touch. So when Mark whispered, "Trust me," he did. More than anything or anyone else.

-

The next day, they started their plans on when and how they were going to kill Jack's friends. There was a plan being made because Mark felt the need to make this special and to make sure it went perfectly, everything exactly how he wanted it to, so he could get exactly what he wanted out of this experience.

There were three of them, one woman and two men. Mark had told him he didn't want him to say or even think their names. Maybe it was because he didn't want to think of the people they were planning to kill as human or maybe it was just because he didn't want Jack to think about them as people he knew. Either way, the only thing they focused on was where they would be at what times, who they'd be with, and how much force they'd have to use to get them to go with them. Of course, Jack could always ask them to meet up, he even suggested it, but Mark said it would be best if they get them with his methods.

Mark didn't exactly explain what his methods were, but Jack wasn't going to ask. As long as they killed them quickly, it was the only thing he wanted. He would rather not kill them at all, but Mark's promise of success, of being free...that was what pulled him in and made him set on getting this done. Successful in what? Free of what? He didn't think about it, just the words and their meaning went straight to Jack's head, so he listened to Mark's plan and agreed.

In the evening, Mark ordered pizza over the phone because Jack complained about there only being snacks that he was sick of. 

He was strangely delighted by the way Mark's voice sounded so much sweeter while he was talking to the person on the phone, but at the same time it made him cringe because he knew how Mark usually acted, so smug, so proud, so...honestly creepy. To hear him change his voice to sound nice to outsiders was just a strange feeling. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He didn't really have to worry about it, though, because right when Mark hung up, he was back to normal. It was odd to him how different of a face, of a tone, Mark had when he was dealing with normal people.

Normal people. To differ him and Mark from normal people, almost made it seem that they weren't human. Though, he couldn't really argue with it if someone said that he wasn't normal. He figured that out a long time ago. He isn't even close to normal and Mark seems to be even further from normal than he is. Though, normalcy is kind of overrated. 

"What are you thinking about?"

Jack jumped, but didn't move from his spot. He hadn't realized that Mark was literally right in front of his face, staring at him as if he was trying to look inside his mind. "Jesus Christ..." He breathed out. "Nothing."

"Well, that's a lie."

"I was just thinking about us."

"Us?"

That was the wrong way to put it. "I just mean, the plan. I was just thinking about the plan." He spoke slightly quicker, trying to rephrase what he'd said. He was losing his composure. 

"You're losing your composure."

And apparently Mark noticed. He didn't know why. He was usually good at being calm, collected, controlled, but, maybe because Mark, a guy who knew a lot about him, could kill him at any second, and was, mentally and physically, stronger than him, was literally staring at him from an inch away like a weirdo, he couldn't do it. "Maybe it's because your face weirds me out."

Mark grinned. "Good."

"...good?"

"Yeah, good. I don't need you to tell me you like me or my face." He leaned closer, just enough, so that their lips brushed together, relishing in the way Jack's breath hitched and the way he froze up. "I already know the truth." He whispered, then pulling back and walking away, going to get a drink, completely ignoring that that just happened.

Jack stood there, trying not to look like a complete idiot in Mark's eyes. He knew Mark was being a smug bastard at the moment, sipping his drink, being an ass and he wanted to punch him for it. What? It was how he showed affection.

-

"Time to sleep."

Jack looked at Mark, confused until he saw that it was almost eleven at night. He nodded, going to Mark's room, the same place he'd slept the night before. He got settled into the bed, the weight shifting when Mark got in beside him. At first, he'd questioned it, but really, it was either sleep here or sleep on the couch, which hurt to even sit on for too long.

He laid comfortably, staying only on the right side of the bed as to not intrude Mark's sleeping space. He was almost asleep, but was greatly awoken when he felt an arm around his waist and he was suddenly being pulled just a little bit until he felt his whole back against something warm and solid. Was Mark really spooning him right now? He wanted to turn his head back to look at him and see if he was sleeping, but he found it was going to be impossible to move that much without breaking something. Mark was holding him too tightly for him to be able to actually move and he could feel his breath right on the back of his neck, so he figured Mark was literally right there.

He decided, in the end, to just go to sleep. The only actual problem he had was that it was Mark spooning him and that explained it all, but overall, he was really warm and felt protected and loved even though he was pretty sure that was the opposite of what he was when with this man. Though, he had to admit to himself that he did find Mark interesting. Not to mention creepy, but also attractive in his own way and he still, for some reason, had something in his mind that just told him to trust him.

And when he felt a light kiss at the back of his neck just before he fell asleep, that trust seemed to grow.

-

"Get up."

Jack opened his eyes, suddenly realizing how cold he was. "What? Why?"

"We're going out today."

"For what exactly?" He turned to look at Mark, seeing the absolute evil look and he knew not to mess with him.

"To kill someone."

At first, Jack thought he meant to do their plan, to kill his friends, but as he got up and got dressed into different clothes (that were Mark's because he wouldn't let him go back to his apartment), he realized that he wouldn't have just said they were going to "kill someone" if that's what they were going to do. No, this was Mark saying that they were going to kill together for the first time. Someone, maybe random, or maybe someone that Mark had been wanting to kill. He had no idea, but either way it was going to happen.

They left the house together, Mark not saying a word as they walked side by side. He held out a knife to Jack, which he took and hid just as quickly. He didn't need to say anything because he knew Jack would understand. No, "who are we going to kill". No, "why are you giving me this knife". No, "why are we going to kill". Just complete silence. And Jack did understand. The look on Mark's face said it all. He was going to kill someone and Jack was going to help him. End of story.

As they started getting closer to a house, Mark started to speak. "There's gonna be three people. Two young woman and a middle aged man. One woman will most likely be sitting on the couch, watching tv in the living room to the left, the other one reading a newspaper at a table, not far from it. The man isn't something you have to worry about, just let me take care of him, but I need you to distract the women, keep them in one place, kill them if you want, I don't care."

Before Jack even had time to speak or think, they were at the house and Mark kicked open the door, leaving Jack's sight in an instant. He remembered, though, the women to the left doing what Mark said they should be though they were startled out of their positions. He didn't hesitate, grabbing the closest woman and slitting her throat, nice and quick, so he could focus on the other woman not escaping. Mark said he could kill them if he wanted and he wouldn't let that chance go by, especially not if it meant he had to baby sit them otherwise. He threw the first woman down and went for the other. She ran right for the phone and he almost laughed at her. Trying to call the police when there was someone only a few feet from you who was about to kill you was something that made you die quicker, not that he was complaining.

He grabbed her by the hair, the easiest thing to get a hold of. She squirmed and punched him and kicked him and kneed him in the groin. It only made him angry and he grabbed her neck, squeezing tightly, and pushing her up against the wall. Oh, he missed this. Usually, he lured people late at night that were outside in the streets. The last time he actually went to someone's house in the morning and just intruded on their life and killed them cold blooded in their house was when he was in high school, years ago. It gave him an adrenaline rush like no other kind of kill had. Her screams were gone, replaced by choking noises of her trying to breath. She clawed at his arm and it only made him enjoy it more. That slight pain of her nails against his skin, only making him take in just how much she was trying to hold onto her life. 

Then something came to mind. Why would Mark say he doesn't care whether they die or not? He knew that if he said that, Jack would go in and kill them. Did that mean that Mark wanted them dead, too or was he really leaving it up for Jack to decide? Jack almost laughed at the thought. Mark leaving it up to him? Yeah, right. Mark wanted them to die and that made Jack even more happy to do this. 

At this point, the women was losing too much oxygen to be able to function correctly. He wondered if he should just kill her, so he could see how Mark was doing, if he was done or if he was in trouble. Who was he kidding? Mark could handle everything by himself. But still...to see Mark kill someone was something he hadn't seen before. He was curious as to just how he did it. When he realized that the woman had passed out, he sighed. Killing her wouldn't be as fun, but he didn't care. Now all he wanted was to see Mark kill the man if he hadn't already done it. He dropped the woman, not wanting to bother with her at the moment and instead headed to where he now realized he could hear noise. He went up the stairs quickly, but quietly and saw Mark out of the corner of his eye in a bedroom. He turned and walked a little closer, but not enough to distract him. There was a man on the floor, Mark on top of him like how he was on Jack, except he was stabbing the man repeatedly in the chest. Jack could tell he was already dead, the man being only dead weight and blood at this point. 

After another stab, Mark noticed Jack and got up, panting, blood all over his hands, face, and clothes, his hair messy, a cut on his cheek. He looked at Jack. "How's the girls?"

"One dead, the other unconscious."

Mark nodded, still catching his breath. "I have to...clean up. Take care of the unconscious one and then do what you need to do." There was silence for a moment and neither of them moved. "Now!"

Jack quickly went back down the stairs, doing as he was told. He could tell from the moment Mark told him where they'd all be and how they were going to do this that this was no random encounter, but all he could wonder was what exactly these people, and that guy in particular, did to get under his skin.

-

They cleaned up the scene, Mark assuring Jack that they'd have the time before the people's brother, who lived with them, but just was at work at the time, or anyone else came back, and then they left. Jack noticed that Mark seemed much more relaxed like he'd let out stress and he understood that. This wasn't even Jack's kill, this was Mark's, Mark's revenge on something, someone, and Jack felt relief from it. 

One thing that made him disappointed when they left was that they had to clean everything, including themselves. Mark had looked more attractive than Jack could ever want to admit. He looked messed up, like he had some sort of struggle because that man fought back. He was bloody, out of breath, his usually clean hairstyle was messy, he'd gotten hurt...

Jack could still see the cut on Mark's cheek. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was still there. He could tell Mark put some sort of alcohol on it to help clean it. He didn't know how he got it, exactly, but it seemed like it would leave a scar, even if it was a light one. 

For just having teamed up to kill three people, the two of them were content, walking back home, holding hands, not for any romantic attraction, but just to know that they did it, it was real, and they're both still there, both still in this together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Sorry for making you guys wait so long. It's just been hard to write this, but I'm finally updating. I just hope you guys like it.  
> I have to say a few things. I was talking to someone who's read this and they said that Mark and Jack's feelings are strange and not completely clear and that sometimes the mood changes abruptly, but that's kind of the point sometimes. These characters are fucking insane. Their minds are filled with all sorts of shit. Especially Jack who is so confused with how he feels and thinks and why he does and thinks certain things. Sometimes, like in this chapter, Jack makes a quick and maybe dumb decision that changes the mood so quickly and then the results may be unexpected or not, depending on who you are. The main point is, don't expect to understand what the characters are thinking, how they're feeling, how they should progress, and what they think because they could change very rapidly, especially when a lot of thoughts are going through their mind. On the other hand, some things could very well be set in stone.  
> Tell me if you guys see any errors in grammar and such, so I can fix it. I'd appreciate it. :)

They walked back home silently, not speaking a word even when they went inside. Jack walked Mark to the bathroom, noticing that he hadn't exactly tended to all of his wounds, as his knuckles were bloody and seemed like they hurt. He turned on the faucet and guided Mark's hand under the water, seconds later pulling it back to dab at his knuckles with a washcloth. The whole time he could feel Mark watching him and wasn't so sure whether he felt awkward or content or maybe strangely both. He didn't even glance at him, though, when he put the washcloth down and brought Mark's hand up to his lips, lightly kissing the knuckles.

Mark still didn't say anything, but his breath hitched slightly, surprised by the action. He watched as Jack lowered his hand and looked up to face him. He'd never felt so at ease while looking at someone, someone that he wasn't about to kill and probably wasn't going to kill anytime soon, if ever. They looked deeply in each other's eyes and Mark would have scoffed if he wasn't experiencing feelings that he hadn't felt ever before. He thought up several scenarios of what could happen in the next few moments, as always, his mind thinking ahead and taking the best route. He leaned over to press a kiss to Jack's cheek as a silent thanks and then let go of Jack's hand, walking back to the living room.

Jack grinned, watching him go. He knew what Mark was trying to say, so he whispered a quick, "You're welcome" and followed him.

-

They didn't need to speak, the two of them, but especially Mark who only uses words when he feels he needs to. Even when they first met, he used words as a tool of intimidation and a way to show Jack that he wasn't the superior in the situation and he would die if he didn't realize that. Casual conversation wasn't something that Mark did, Jack noticed. Even though they lived together, even if only for a very short period of time, Mark hadn't ever talked to him for the sake of talking, for the sake of getting to know each other. Maybe it was because Mark already knew so much about him from watching him, maybe it was because Mark didn't trust him as much as Jack, for some reason, felt the need to trust him, or maybe Mark didn't want to get attached.

Only from a few days worth of time, Jack could see that Mark was a special person. He was serious when he talked about killing his own friends, he was serious when he said that if Jack did the same, he would be free, but there was something identifiable in his voice and his eyes. He could tell that somewhere hidden and far, far in the back of Mark's mind, he could love and care about someone. It's not that he's loved people since getting rid of the ones he did love, no, it's that he's afraid of loving and then having to take it all away from himself because no matter how Mark felt about someone, he always came first. His life, his murders, they were the most important thing to him. 

He could tell Mark never wanted to lose that wonderful feeling after killing someone. He didn't want to be locked up in a prison or sent to die and be in the news, people reading articles about the people he's killed while not knowing about the rest of him and staring at his face as if he were a failure or not human at all like they actually know him. They'd feel sorry for his mother for having a son like him, they would judge him based on the "horrible things he's done", there would be people who thought he was "cool" or "interesting" and he would despise them all the same. He didn't want to be someone that everyone knew about for one reason or another and he didn't want to lose his freedom. He was afraid of it. That was one thing that Jack could say for sure that he understood about Mark and it was most likely the thing that drew Mark towards him the most. All Mark needed was someone by him who he knows doesn't feel sorry of him, isn't overwhelmingly scared of him, will kill with him when he needs the support, and overall, someone who understands.

-

Jack knew Mark didn’t want to talk with him, but that didn’t mean that Jack wouldn’t try to spark up conversation from time. He would ask Mark questions, most of the time in a jokingly manner as to not seem too personal or intimate. Once he asked, “So what do you do for a hobby besides killing people?” to which Mark answered, “Your mom”. It was progress even if Mark didn’t realize it all that much. The first few times Jack asked him even slightly personal questions, he ignored him completely, but that time, he’d given an answer. 

Since Mark didn’t want to talk to him, he snooped around his house once when Mark went out for reasons he didn’t specify. He was surprised by the lack of anything interesting. The only thing that he found that helped him know more about Mark was a custom made CD he found underneath his bed. He would have been happier if he could have played it, but it was too scratched out and unreadable. 

His next step was to do a little research on who exactly Mark Fischbach is and was. He tried internet, but he didn’t find much. The only thing that came up about the Mark he was looking for was that he attended a school in a state on the other side of the country, but he wasn’t even completely sure that was him. The lack of information intrigued him even more. He could probably find more on himself on the internet than he could Mark. 

There wasn’t exactly much he could do. He couldn’t leave because Mark would find him, so that ruled out pretty much everything. If he went through with their plan, truly, then maybe Mark would trust him enough to let him leave or he could casually convince Mark to come with him to where he grew up. He could make up plenty of lies about why he needed to go there.

Either way, he needed to find out more about Mark. Mark knew so much about him, more than he could guess, so he needed to make it even. 

And no, he wasn’t scared of what he’d find or what would happen if he dug deep enough. At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

-

They didn't kill Jack's friends immediately. It was a few days later when they decided that it was time and only because Mark wanted to make sure that this all went how he planned it to. He needed control of the situation. They kept his friends in Mark's basement, ankles tied in front of them, arms tied behind their backs. 

Jack stood in front of the three of them with a knife in his hand, Mark standing right behind him. He didn't know if he could do it. He was convinced by Mark that he needed to, convinced himself that he could. The day before he was wishing that he could just get it over with, but the more he watched them, the more hesitant he was. He stared at them, seeing how fearful, sad, and betrayed they looked. The pleading in their eyes...

He walked over to the first one, a woman. He tried not to think her name in his head, so he wouldn't remember the memories that they had together or her family that he loved as well. She was his best friend. He didn't think about any of that because he knew he wouldn't be able to do it if he didn't see her like he saw everyone else. A nuisance. A toy. He held her hair to expose more of her throat and brought the knife to her neck. He wanted everything Mark had said he could get. He wanted to do this for himself, for Mark. He was ready, but now that he was there...now that he looked in her eyes, he wasn't so sure. That was his first mistake. It made him want to hug her. He was close enough to, but that's not why Mark helped him bring them there. That's not why Mark worked to get him this far. He gulped and gripped tighter on her hair. 

Then there were hands on his hips and lips brushing against his ear, a whisper of comforting words that put him in a trance and made him press the knife harder against her throat, "I'm here for you."

-

Jack stood where he was, holding the knife, bloody and sharp, seeing the lifeless bodies of people that he'd loved, feeling the arms, tight and comforting around his waist, lips pressing light kisses at his neck. 

"You did good. You did so good. I'm proud of you."

The praise made him full of pride, but he could feel hot tears on his cheeks, his vision getting blurry. He was overjoyed by the fact that Mark was proud, but something inside him made him want to puke. He pulled himself from Mark's grasp and ran out of the room, not caring whether or not Mark went after him. He just ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore.

-

Jack woke up gasping for air and with a huge headache. He soon realized he was laying in a bed, not in his own, but in Mark's. He'd been living there a few days, long enough to distinguish Mark's house, Mark's bed, from others. He sat up, his first thought being that he should call out for Mark, but he restrained himself, remembering his friends. How could he let Mark persuade him, effect him so much that he killed people he'd known for years? He'd met the man when he broke into his house, a week after that he started living with him, and three days after that he killed his friends. All because of Mark.

Maybe he really did believe that he was better off without them. Maybe he subconsciously wanted this the whole time, but now his morals were getting to him. Maybe he never really wanted to do it, but Mark's sweet words, loving and commanding touches, kisses, and the hold on him that made it easy for him to fall asleep at night tricked him into thinking that Mark, a man he barely knew, but at the same time knew so much about him and understood him, was more important than people he'd known for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was a mixture of both. Or maybe he was just a really fucked up person.

Yeah, that was it. He knew that was it and he was willing to accept it because he couldn't go back now. He needed what Mark gave to him too much. If he walked away, he would die, whether it be because Mark would kill him or he'd slowly wilt away on his own, he needed Mark. He couldn't deny it. The most he could do was try to make the best of the life he was currently living. 

Jack got out of bed and looked around for Mark, finding him in, of all places, the kitchen, turning off the stove. Did he just cook? "Mark?" He walked closer to him.

"You're awake." He stated. "Hungry?" He held out a plate to him.

"You made food?"

"What? I can't eat?"

"No, it's not that..." Make the best out of the life he was living...he could try to do that. "Thanks." He gave him a kiss on the cheek and took the plate, mentally laughing at the actual shock Mark had for a split second that he soon replaced with a smug look. He sat down at the table, Mark sitting next to him.

"You're fine, right?" 

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Mark looked at him and said all at once, "You ran away after you killed those people and I found you about a mile away, passed out on the ground, so I imagine you hit your head on the impact of the fall and you've been out for a little while, not too long that I think any worry is necessary, but still, if you have any pain it might be nice to let me know since I'm taking care of you and I want you to be safe...but, you know...it's just a question." He shrugged, going back to eating.

Jack couldn't think up of a response to that, nor did he want to tell Mark about the pounding in his head, so he just shook his head and mumbled, "I'm fine," while looking down at his plate.

"Good." He didn't sound like he believed him. "I know you wouldn't lie to me, right?" He stopped eating to glare at him and Jack was honestly scared.

"...I- I just have a headache. It's not anything important."

"Of course you're gonna say that it's not a big deal or something like that. You have too much pride and on top of that, you don't even like me."

Jack frowned. To hear Mark say it made him feel...weird. It made him want to yell at him and correct him, to say he does like him, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what he felt for Mark. Resent? Admiration? Like? More than like? He'd known of the man for only over a week. He'd lived with him for three days. Three days filled with planning to kill his friends, take out food, silent conversations, and Mark kissing him and holding him and comforting him and cuddling him and, in a sense...loving him. Even more so after he'd gone with them to kill those people...So what exactly did he feel for Mark? "I don't...not like you."

"Really?" He seemed honestly surprised. "I thought the whole attacking you at first meeting, forcing you to live with me and be submissive to me was turning you off a bit."

Jack thought about it for a second and then shook his head. "No...actually...it's...I don't know." It almost sounded like Mark didn’t believe him. Did he think he was trying to get on his good side to deceive him? To trick him into slipping up?

"And killing those people...you didn't really handle it well, but I take it you're okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm..." He couldn't even see their faces anymore. Like they never existed. He really was a horrible person, but Mark was right, he left them go and now he's free...well free from everything except Mark himself. "I'm fine." There was something that was bothering him, though. "Can I ask you a question? My impression of you is that you're a man who takes no bullshit. You're strong and you go after what you want. You...you will destroy anything and anyone that gets in your way. You stick to your word...except...I ran away. I couldn't stay there and yet you found me and brought me back and even made food. Despite the fact you act good to me. You know, with the things that you do." He really didn't think he needed to explain. "Isn't that just all..." Manipulation. "I just don't understand why you haven't killed me."

"Because I've been wanting to get you for a year. I'm not just gonna destroy all that for one little thing."

"But, no, that's...you said before, when I first met you, that if I would've actually been able to get out of your hold that you would have killed me and I believe that everything you said was something that you meant. You didn't care how long you'd been waiting, you were gonna kill me because you wanted to, essentially. I couldn't have done any damage even if I did get out of your hold. You were the one with the weapon, the kitchen was too far, I didn't have any other things I could use around and I'm sure you knew that, but still, you would have killed me. Then all the sudden there's a change in heart and you're willing to, I'm guessing, carry me a mile when, if anything, I would have expected you to leave me or even kill me there because I'm too much if a nuisance?"

"You...don't understand."

"You're right, I don't, so tell me. Why haven't you killed me?"

"Because-"

"You too much of a bitch to do it, huh? The mighty Mark is a fucking pussy, is that it?" Now he was just trying to get him to snap, see if anything had actually changed.

"Jack..." His voice was deep and threatening, but yet he didn't even move.

"Ha! You haven't attacked me yet, I'm surprised, because you see the impression I got of you was that if anyone did anything to put you down or piss you off, you'd kill them in an instant, so why am I still alive? Hmm. Seems strange."

"Shut. The fuck. Up. Jack."

"Aw, now the little baby is all pouty?" He teased. "Baby wants his bottle? Want a toy? Need mama to-" He was suddenly pushed up against a wall, an angry Mark inches away from his face, their eyes locking. Though he was nervous, he kept speaking. "Now's the part where you kill me, right? Hold on." He reached into his back pocket where he kept a knife and he put it in Mark's hand. "There you go. Right here." He used his finger to trace a line across his throat. "Oh, or in my tummy if you want me to die a little slower and painfully. Or even have your sweet time with me and torture me to death. You have to have done that before, right?" He grabbed Mark's hand and forcefully pressed the knife against his throat. "Kill me."

Mark clenched the knife tightly, hand trembling in a way it hadn't before, at least not in a long time. He looked serious, one handing traveling up to hold the back of Jack's head. He gulped and waited a few seconds. 

"Whatcha' waiting for? Kill me." He waited a few seconds. "Kill me, Mark. Do it." He paused, waiting to see if the moment would come. "KILL ME!"

"I CAN'T!" He dropped the pocket knife and shook his head, pain in his eyes. "I fucking can't." He grabbed Jack and held him close, clutching onto his shirt. "I can't kill you. I can't. I just can't. I...can't..."

Jack stood still, letting Mark hold him, frozen in his arms. What could he say to that? "...Why?"

He pulled back from the hug. "...I don't know. My body shakes, my mind screams at me not to do it, my heart beats so fast, and my body gets so warm, like I'm gonna pass out. I feel like if I kill you...I'll be empty. But I won't! I'll have everything I had before I even knew who you were. A year ago I had..." He stopped talking.

"...Mark?"

He chuckled bitterly. "I can't remember a year ago. I know I killed people, but besides that what did I do? I'd just been watching you the entire year, learning your routine, your habits, your skills, your favorite things to eat or watch or do, I...I just learned everything about you...and now I don't even know so many things about my own life. I pushed them out because I was just so focused on you because you...you attracted my attention in more ways than anyone else ever had."

Jack stared at Mark, the pain in both their eyes apparent and he didn't know how to fix it, to make it the look he was used to. The only way he could think to do it was a little extreme, but, for them, it made sense. So, he did it. He grabbed Mark by the back of the neck and pulled his head closer, meeting him in the middle for a rough kiss. He noticed Mark almost immediately responded after he realized what was going on. He soon found himself pushed against a counter, Mark's hand down his pants. Nothing else on his mind, but Mark. Only Mark. Just like the past week of his life. Just as he'd consumed Mark's life for the past year, every moment and every thought that Jack had was all being overcome by Mark and there was nothing he could do about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think everyone will be happy to know that I have the entire rest of this fic planned out. Whoop!  
> All I have to do is find time to write and be happy with it, so it should be done in no time. I'll be kinda sad about it, but so happy that I accomplished writing a full chaptered fic. I predict there will be only a few more chapters unless I decide to change some things here and there.  
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

Jack woke up with no one beside him. When he sat up his whole body ached. He groaned and stood up from the bed, picking up his pants from the floor, though he didn’t put them on just yet. He felt a little dizzy as he walked, shaking his head to snap out of it. Walking to the bathroom, he heard noises from the other room, but ignored them for now. He closed the bathroom door behind himself and made his way to the sink, grabbing his toothbrush. He never noticed until then just how well he settled in to living with Mark. He knew where almost everything was, he had his own toothbrush, own towel, and he even had his own side of the bed that he always laid on. God, the bed. He thought about the night before, scenes flashing in his mind. He looked in the mirror in front of him and as he brushed his teeth he could see the marks on his neck, on his shoulder, on his collarbone. He remembered _bleeding_ and he loved every moment of it. He’s sure Mark did too.  
   
Last night he almost thought Mark was going to kill him. Not during the sex, but in the moments that led up to it. He provoked him to try to get an insight as to who he was and what he truly thought about him, why he kept him there. It was an unexpected delight that it seemed he actually cared about Jack, at least in his own Mark-like way.   
   
He started to shower, wondering just how their relationship would be now. Complicated like usual, probably. He didn’t know what exactly he felt for Mark, but he just wanted more and more of him. As confusing as he was, Jack thought himself to be even more confusing. Mark has always been the same ever changing person, he’s guessing, but Jack has changed so much in the shortest amount of time, more than he ever has before. He went from hating Mark to doubting him to being intrigued by him, trying to find out everything he could, to now hungering for him more than he had anyone or anything else only in a few weeks’ time. If Mark felt the same way about him, they could become something, right?   
   
He shook his head, sighing to himself. He never knew what was going to happen as long as Mark was around. Something that he never thought would happen became completely plausible. His life changed. He was married to him now, wasn’t he? Or fake married, at least. He laughed, thinking back to when Mark said wedding vows, claiming Jack was his. It was funny now, though at the time he was…terrified. Interested, but terrified. Then, like now, he had no idea how Mark worked, but he was pretty sure his intention was to scare him, make him weak beneath him and, oh, had he done that.   
   
Mark seems to have changed since then. At first he was intimidating, stern, stone cold, in a way, though looking back at it, he was being playful by Mark standards, but now he was…softer, even if just a little. He changes frequently; maybe it’s a mood thing. He knew he wouldn’t figure it out even if he tried and he has tried…several times. The only thing he can get out of Mark is a laugh, maybe a smile, but never anything to show what he’s thinking. He was a mystery while Jack was an open book to him. Mark knew everything about him. It was…what was it? Was it creepy? Flattering? He wasn’t sure.  
   
Jack realized he’d been in the shower longer than he intended and he got out, drying off. He had to try not to think so much, but he couldn’t help it. His mind was constantly active when he was alone. He put on his pants, not bothering to get any other clothes in that moment and he went to the living room where he heard the TV. Mark was sitting on the couch there, but didn’t turn his attention to Jack until he sat down next to him.  
   
“Good morning.” Jack greeted, unsure of what else to say, Mark’s eyes staring at him, scanning his body. He gave him a little smile before being pulled into Mark’s lap and kissed roughly. It was so sudden that he barely had time to breath, to think about his previous worries and instead he just kissed him back, gripping at Mark’s hair, pulling it, so he could hear him moan. He needed him. Now that he’d gotten just a little there was no going back. He needed Mark. His taste, his smell, his touch. He wouldn’t be able to handle rejection. After Mark became part of his life it was either him or no one at all and Jack wasn’t ready to be alone.  
  
Jack was pushed back on the couch, his pants ripped off, kisses, but mostly bites, at his hip and thighs. His eyes wanted to close, but he wouldn’t let them. He kept his eyes on Mark. Always on Mark. No matter what he did it would always be Mark.  
  
-  
  
The first few weeks of their relationship was both what Jack wanted and what he despised. They had sex a lot. Most of the time they were together was sex and he wasn’t complaining he was just…complaining. Mark would go out like usual, doing whatever it is he does, and then when he came back he would be on Jack, all over him. He didn’t mind, especially not at first, but when you’re with a guy for a while and you know more about his dick than how his day was, it might get to you. He started thinking again. They never did establish what their relationship was. Maybe they were just fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. Though he wasn’t even sure if they could be considered friends. He didn’t think Mark was just using him for sex. He was probably using him for a lot of other things too. Well, not that that was a good thing, but he’s just pulling answers out of his ass now. That seems to be the part of Jack that’s closest to Mark anyways.  
  
Maybe he was just a little aggravated, if that was even the right word to describe how he was feeling. Of course Jack wanted sex with Mark. He loved it. It was rough and sexy and always left him wanting even more and he always got more. They cuddled sometimes, sure, but that was only in bed or when Jack initiated it when they were on the couch. It seemed like Mark was more loving in the first few days they knew each other than now. He couldn’t believe he was actually thinking about it, but he was thinking about doing a boyfriend intervention.  
  
Boyfriend.  
  
Was Mark his boyfriend? Of course more and more questions, but no answer from Mark. He groaned. If he asked him, he’d probably say nothing or think for a while and find a way to avoid the question. Jack grumbled to himself, “Stupid, dumb, Mark being a big douche.” He looked around, making sure Mark wasn’t around. No, he was in the bedroom by himself. Doing what? How should he know? Mark only ever did things by himself. Shopped by himself, took walks by himself, killed by himself, and it was because Mark never technically said he could leave the house and never suggested them going together, so he wasn’t going to press his luck like he’s done before. He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to see him anyway. He was happier being the man who suddenly packed up and moved. Mark had that all sorted out a long time ago.  
  
But was it too much to ask if they could go on another kill together? That’s what Mark said he wanted in the beginning, wasn’t it?  
  
He crossed his arms and got up from where he was sitting on the couch. He wasn’t afraid of Mark. Who cares if he could kill him? He probably wouldn’t. He’d even said so himself. He can’t. He can’t because he cares in some way and in some way Jack cared about him as well. He wanted them to be happy together, so in order for that to happen, he’d have to force Mark to communicate. He went to the bedroom. “Mark?” He peeked inside and saw Mark sitting on the bed, facing away from him. “What are you doing?”  
  
Mark didn’t respond right away at first. He shoved something in his pocket and turned towards Jack. “Nothing.”  
  
Jack narrowed his eyes. He was getting sick of this shit. “You had to have been doing something.” He put his hand on his hip and Mark just stared at him for a while before getting up, walking over to him. Jack was ready to be assertive and put his foot down if he tried to kiss him, but was surprised when that didn’t happen at all.  
  
Mark reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He looked anxious as he took Jack’s hand and placed it in his palm, closing his hand afterward. He motioned for him to take a look at it.  
  
When Jack looked at what Mark gave him he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He glanced at Mark to see that he had the counterpart of a cheesy, silver couple necklace. Jack had the key and Mark had the heart. For once, Jack was completely speechless. He stared down at the necklace. “Where did you get it?”  
  
“Just put it on, Jack.” Mark said, rubbing his arm. When Jack just stared at him, he sighed and took the necklace, walking behind him. He place the key of the necklace on Jack’s chest, bringing the rest of the necklace behind his neck to lock it. He walked back to Jack’s front to look at him.  
  
Jack touched the key and smiled down at it before hugging Mark tightly, wrapping his arms around his neck, Mark’s arms around his waist. “Thank you. I love it.” Jack didn’t get anything in reply, but he could feel Mark’s smile against his neck and, really, that was enough for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't too much of this story left, sadly, but also excitingly!  
> Also, I may have two different endings for the fic, so people can choose which one they like better. I like both of them, but each have their pros and cons, but we'll see when we get to it.  
> I predict there will be about...two more chapters, at least. Everything is planned, but writing it will be what determines how much there is and how quickly I'm able to finish this.  
> Feeling in a good mood, so I'm gonna keep writing and hopefully get this finished soon.  
> Thanks for sticking around, guys! I love you all.

For weeks after, their relationship is as good as Jack sees it ever being. He’s happy, incredibly happy, and he thinks Mark is too. Or it seems like he is. He actually told Mark how he feels, sitting down with him after the surprise necklace that almost made him start to cry. Mark isn’t and, Jack has a feeling, never will be good with emotions, both of others and himself, but they came to an agreement that had a few rules. If Jack asked Mark how his day was, he would have to answer honestly and include some details as to what he did, the two of them needed to have some time to just be with each other every once in a while and “act like a couple” which neither of them really knew how to do, and, the one that Mark was most willing to agree to, the two of them would go out together every once in a while and go on a hunt. It didn’t have to be anything big, but killing had been a large part of both their lives for years and Mark even admitted that he’d been meaning to bring Jack out again, but was busy. Busy doing what? Jack never asked.

Nevertheless, Jack was just glad that everything was becoming more stable and much more loving now. This was a whole new life for him, something different than ever before and he was accepting it with open arms because it’s been better than anything he’s ever had. He knew there was a part of him deep down that wondered if he was slowly turning into someone else, someone a little more masochistic, someone a little more submissive than he once was because Mark was in his life, but he didn’t care. He used to be imprisoned, afraid to go anywhere during the day, afraid to show any of his real self, his immoral self that would kill someone for a penny or even just a good laugh.

The last few weeks had been some of the best times of his life. He had a boyfriend. Yes, an actual boyfriend. One that he knew cared and wouldn’t ever leave him because there was no one else that would be as willing as he is. Someone like him was hard to come by. That was why Mark found him and chose him. They were different and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t want to be normal and though that came with a price, it was well worth it because he was happy.

Jack was very content with what he had. He was living what he thought was a very good life and for some reason that put him into a mood to watch extremely cheesy romance movies. Some of these movies may or may not have made him cry, but Mark was out anyways, so he didn’t care all that much. Watching these movies did induce one wish in him, though.

Pet names.

Most couples had pet names and even though he didn’t want to be normal, the idea of pet names was endearing, especially after watching three consecutive chick flicks. This got him pacing around the house, trying to come up with something that would be unique. All the unique names he came up with here completely garbage, though, so he tried to look online for some good names. He only found names such as Hon’Bun, Angel, Baby Boy, Huggy Bear and Big Daddy, though, so decided he’d settle for coming up with his own somewhat clever name and then he waited for Mark go get home.

He heard the door open minutes later and casually slid next to Mark once he was at the counter, putting down some bags. “Hey, welcome back. What’d you get?” He asked, trying to create some casual conversation before immediately springing up the pet name he’d chose. It wasn’t anything special. Anyone could have easily come up with it, but he liked it and that’s all that mattered to him. He just hoped Mark did too.

“Nothing much.” Mark handed the bag over to him, so he could look for himself. “I got some snacks for you, though.”

Jack opened the bag, smiling when he saw cookies, chips, coffee, and other little delights. “Thanks, Markibabe.” Jack turned to leave, but felt himself slammed against the hard surface of the wall, Mark’s hands tightly grasping at his neck, pressing against his throat. It was extremely painful, the ability to breathe was taken away from him, choking with every attempt at speaking, his sight blurring. It wasn’t long before he was let go, though. He gasped, sucking in as much air as his body would give him, coughing a few times. He looked up and, as he regained his vision, he saw that Mark looked almost scared. 

“Jack…” He clenched his fists, his hands appeared to be shaking. “I’m…” Before another word was said, Mark hurried out of the house, leaving Jack to wonder what exactly just happened. 

Jack pressed his hand to his neck, wincing at the pain that was caused, even more painful with every breath he took. It was the first time he ever thought Mark was actually going to kill him and after everything had seemed so normal for them, too. He felt all of his strength in those few seconds and never before has he used the strength that meant he intended to kill. It wasn’t like him. No, Mark was…he wouldn’t do that to him. Well, he just did, but there had to be some sort of reason. A good reason. Something that would explain what the hell his problem was. 

He went through the rest of his day alone, no sign of Mark coming back. He started to wonder if he ever would as he laid in bed alone, staring at the ceiling at midnight, unable to sleep. He felt cold, worried, and somewhat uneasy, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do. He couldn’t go out and find Mark because that would be near impossible. He didn’t think he wanted to be found at the moment and thinking back to just how scared and absolutely guilty Mark looked after he let him go…Mark didn’t want to hurt him. It just happened. He would be back soon and he everything would be okay. He would apologize or show that he’s sorry and Jack would accept it and they would move on. He wasn’t afraid of Mark. He hadn’t been for a long time and this didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t let it.

-

A few days passed and now Jack was filled with both anger and anxiety, though mostly the latter and found himself in the same position as the days passed, unable to sleep in the early morning, now nearing two o’clock. He’d slept a total of six hours over the past three days and, in simple terms, he felt like shit. He didn’t think something like this would affect him so much, but he also didn’t think that Mark would be gone for more than the night. He played with the small key on his necklace, gently turning it between his fingers. He was wearing it when the incident happened and he hadn’t taken it off since. It helped keep his mind off everything he was feeling, both physical and emotional pain that he couldn’t actually rid of no matter how hard he tried. He closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would soon take over. He was close to sleep, only a second before his mind started dreaming, but he was pulled out of that sleeping state when he heard a door open and then close. He sat up in the bed, two scenarios playing in his head, each with branching options. The door to the bedroom creaked open and he saw the silhouette of a familiar face walk in and the light was turned on. “Mark?”

Mark walked over to the bed, but didn’t sit or lay. He just stood there. “I’m s-”

Jack jumped out of the bed and hugged him tightly, almost knocking him down in the process. He almost cried and it made him feel weak, but right now that’s all he was, a wreck because he’d had no idea what his future held, if Mark was dead or alive, if he would ever come back. He hadn’t known whether or not he would be able to live without him if anything happened and he knew the answer to that question now. Jack pressed his face against the side of Mark’s neck, satisfied when Mark’s arms hugged him around the waist. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

“You should.”

Jack pulled back from the hug and pressed a kiss to Mark’s lips. He could taste blood. He looked at Mark, now seeing that he had blood all over him. Most of it was someone else’s. He pressed his finger gently against the cut Mark had on his jaw and up to the bruise he had on his cheek, lightening his touch when he saw a small bit of pain flash across face. He had another cut on his lip as well. That explained the blood taste. He looked into Mark’s eyes, unsure of what he saw in them. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It’s fine.”

“We should go to the bathroom and get it clean-“

“No, it’s fine. Just...”

“But you’re obviously in pain.”

“I deserve it!” He raised his voice, but then quickly became quiet. “Sorry…I’m sorry…” He cupped Jack’s cheeks and kissed him gently on the forehead, the tip of his nose, and then his lips. His thumbs brushed against his cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He whispered.

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt. It’s okay.”

“In what world is this okay?” He looked to Jack’s neck, not daring to touch the dark bruises that were formed there, covering most of the skin. It must be painful even now. 

“In the world where I say it is.” Jack put his finger under Mark’s chin to make him look at him. “You didn’t need to purposefully get injured as some sort of…punishment for hurting me.” Those cuts and bruises wouldn’t have been there otherwise. That showed several mistakes and misjudgments and Mark wasn’t that reckless. He knew from the moment he saw it that Mark had let it happen. “I know there was a reason for why you became so angry. I forgive you. Hell, I forgave you before you even walked out the door, Mark…I…why did you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Mark sighed. “Some past memories were brought up in my mind and I went a little crazy. I’m fucked up, always have been, but somehow you’re still here. It would’ve been really easy to leave the country within those three days, you know.”

Jack shrugged. “Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I love you.” He let out a laugh. “Feels kinda weird saying it, but it’s true and I’m not gonna leave you because you think there’s something wrong with you. You of all people should know that I’m not a victim, Mark. I’ve killed people just like you have. People I’ve hated, people I didn’t particularly care for, people I’ve loved. I enjoyed it nonetheless. At first, sure, I was iffy about it, but deep down I knew I loved it and I realized that a long time ago. You may have hurt me and you may feel guilty because you hurt someone you care about, but I willingly killed the only friends I ever had and I’d say that’s pretty fucked up.” Jack grinned, pleased with himself when Mark didn’t say anything in response. He held Mark’s hand tightly in his own. “Now, if you’re ready to stop sulking, I can see a nice shower in our future.” He said, pulling him along toward the bathroom.

Mark, still at a loss of words, finally smiled and let himself get pulled along. Jack was the only thing that mattered right now and if he forgave him, Mark could live with the guilt silently.

-

The next morning, Mark and Jack both awoke when there was a knock at their door. “I’ll go get it.” Mark said, giving Jack’s temple a kiss before getting up. He grabbed a pair of pants and put them on, so he wasn’t completely naked after the activities of the night before. He then put on his glasses and walked over to the door when he heard another knock. 

When Mark spoke, Jack sat up on the bed, eyes wide.

“Oh…good morning, officer.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Mark Fischbach?” The officer asked, a few others walking towards the house from behind him.  
  
“Yes?” Mark asked, his hand starting to shake slightly, but he was able to stop it, masking all his true emotions from his face, playing innocent. “What is it?”  
  
“We have reasonable suspicion to believe you’re responsible for the murder of several people. Please come of your own free will or we will have to use force.” The officer stepped to the side to let Mark walk out of the house on his own accord, ready to grab him if he tried to escape.  
  
Before Mark could take a step forward, he heard someone behind him. “Mark…” Jack’s voice, tired and sultry came from behind him. He wrapped his arms around Mark, in nothing, but his boxers, and he pressed a comforting kiss to the back of his neck, practically hanging off of him. He knew that Mark’s ideal situation would be that Jack heard everything and ran away, leaving behind no evidence that they were ever involved with each other, but he couldn’t leave him like that. No, he was staying by his side as long as he could, but for now he would act innocent and see where that led him.  
  
“Mr. Fischbach.” The officer urged.  
  
Mark nodded towards the officer and turned around to give Jack a quick kiss before he walked out of his house, guided to the police car. There was no getting out of this for him. Not right now anyway.  
  
One of the officers stayed behind while the others left in one of the cars. “Sir?” He said, referring to Jack. “Would you mind coming with me to answer some questions?”  
  
“I wouldn’t mind that at all. Give me a second.” He went inside, putting on some new clothes. If he went, maybe he could figure out some way to get Mark out, to prove him innocent of whoever they thought he killed. He hurried to change clothes and then went quietly to the station.  
  
-  
  
Mark was put into a small room that he knew was the interrogation room and sat in a chair. He was told as long as he didn’t try to leave, there would be no reason for handcuffs, but, as before, if they needed to use force, they would. He would have to think fast, on his feet. He had no idea what kinds of questions he would be asked, he didn’t even know who they suspected he killed. They were probably searching his house as he sat there. He started to bite his lip, feeling impatient as the minutes went by, his leg shaking up and down. Then, the door opened and a man walked in, closing the door behind him.

  
“I’m Detective David Jones.” He introduced himself and sat down in the chair across from Mark. “Before we start, I’m required to tell you that you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, you have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”  
  
“I don’t need an attorney.” Mark said, sure of himself.  
  
“We will see about that Mr. Fischbach.” He set his arms onto the table. “Before you ask. No, I don’t care how you got that bruise or any of those cuts. Right now it is irrelevant, but I hope that you will answer every question I do ask to the best of your ability.”  
  
“Of course.” He pretended to be nice, preparing himself.  
  
“Your name is Mark Fischbach, 24 years old, born on June 28th, 1992 to Karol and Ben Fischbach, but your father died when you were only an infant, correct?”  
  
“Yes, that’s correct.” He answered. Of course they would have records like that, but how much information did they have? That was the question. Then Detective Jones smirked like he knew something that no one else did and Mark didn’t enjoy that look at all, almost fearing what it meant for him.  
  
“Good. Then let’s start for real now.”  
  
-  
  
“I want to start by asking what happened to your neck there.” Officer Andrea Winslow asked, handing over a cup of water to Jack.  
  
Jack thanked her and took a sip, quite comfortable in the room they were in at the moment, though he’d be more comfortable if he wasn’t being questioned. He’d forgotten about the bruises on his neck, so he hadn’t thought to cover it up. “Oh, that.” He acted shy, uncomfortable. “There was a man who was following me a couple nights ago and he grabbed me and…I’m lucky I got away. Elbowed him right in his balls and ran for it.” He touched his finger to one of the bruises. “I didn’t have the chance to…make myself presentable before I came here.”  
  
“What did this man look like?” She seemed concerned for him. She must be a good person, good authority.  
  
“I don’t know…I didn’t get a chance to see his face. He grabbed me from behind and when he let go I didn’t think about seeing his face. I just thought about getting away…what he might have done to me if I didn’t. I could have…I could have been raped, killed even.” He acted terrified, eyes widening, purposefully closing in on himself. “I’d rather not talk about it anymore.”  
  
She nodded. “I understand that isn’t the reason why you’re here right now, but I would encourage you to speak out about it eventually.” She cleared her throat and then spoke about what concerned Jack more. “What is your relation to Mr. Fischbach?”  
   
“We have casual sex. Nothing more to it than that.” It pained him to say, but it was all part of the act. “We met at a bar one night and he was a good fuck and a nice guy.” He shrugged.  
  
“What bar was that?”  
  
“It’s called the ‘Pink n’ Pert Bar’.” He said, remembering hearing that name from an old friend of his. “It’s not too far away. Good place, actually.” He needed to seem like he was telling the truth, but he couldn’t be too extravagant in his lies in case she picked up on one of them.  
  
“Tell me what you know about him.”  
  
Jack thought for a moment. He had to be careful about this. “Well…his name is Mark Fischbach. He and I are about the same height. He’s extremely ripped.” He paused for a moment. “He’s a good guy. Whatever anyone says about him, I don’t care. He’s nice to me, treats me well. He’s the only guy I’ve ever met who I’ve truly felt safe with and it’s surreal that you would have him as a suspect for murder.” He shook his head.  
  
“As casual sexual partners, I imagine he isn’t too emotionally open about his life. No talk about his family, maybe a brother or parents?”  
  
Jack shook his head. He knew about as much about Mark’s family as any random stranger would. It saddened him a little, but just because he didn’t know about his past didn’t mean that Mark disliked him. It just meant that he liked to keep things secret for one reason or another.  
  
“Do you recognize the names Bob or Wade?”  
  
“No, not at all.”  
  
“I see…you told me what you knew about him and what you feel about him, but I have to inform you that he isn’t the man you think he is.”  
  
Jack almost scoffed. Like they knew who Mark was. They didn’t know anything about him. Not the parts that mattered, the parts that Jack knew. “Really? What do you mean by that?”  
  
“What I mean is, the man who you’ve been meeting with isn’t Mark Fischbach. It’s Matt Fischbach.”  
  
-  
  
“When you were 18 years old, your twin brother, Matt, committed suicide in his room. Hung himself with a rope and was found dead about an hour later by-”  
  
“By my mom. Yes, I know.” He looked at the detective with sorrowful eyes, though his emotions differed from his appearance. “Why are you bringing this up? What has this got to do with-“  
  
“And your mother. You’re aware of her death?”  
  
“Yes…I am. I was by her side when she passed in the hospital room.” This time he was actually upset and it visibly showed on his face in a way that couldn’t be faked. Not by him, anyway. “She was older and had always had health problems, so when she told me she had another heart attack I went to see her as quickly as I could. Again, what does this have to do with-?”  
  
“Just be patient with me, Mark.”  
  
“I might be more patient if you would stop cutting me off.” He grumbled.  
  
The detective ignored him and instead continued on with his own agenda. “Do you remember a young teenager named Bob who, I believe, your brother was good friends with?”  
  
“The name sounds…familiar.” He looked at Detective Jones with stern eyes, still a little taken aback by some of these questions. “I didn’t know him very well personally.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose if he was always with your brother, Matt, then you couldn’t have known much about him. You both had friends of your own like any other teenager. It’s a shame what happened…a murder-suicide. How the hell could anyone murder their friend and cold blood and live with it. Well…I guess that was why it wasn’t just a murder, huh?”  
  
He gritted his teeth. “I guess that would be why, wouldn’t it.”  
  
Detective Jones seemed happy with himself. “Still holding in there?”  
  
“I’m doing fine, thank you for asking.” What was this guy trying to do, trying to achieve? He brought up his mother, his brother, and Bob, too, but he hadn’t talked about the real reason why he was there. Then it hit him. The reason why he was…no. No. He shouldn’t make assumptions about something like this. There was no way.  
      
“Now, I understand that in May of 2014-”  
  
His looked at the detective with slightly widened eyes, anger building up. “Don’t.”  
  
“-your husband-”  
  
“Stop!” He looked down, hiding his face.  
  
“Your husband, Wade Barnes, died. He was diagnosed with cancer in late November of 2012, only lasting two years before it completely took over him.” No response from Mark. “Am I correct?”  
  
He looked up at the detective, a tear running down his cheek, everything about him at the moment looked weak and tragic.  
  
“Ah, there’s the real tears. I thought I might get you before bringing up Wade, but you’re a little harder to break than anticipated. Your mother, your best and only friend, your brother…none of those people are quite as important to you as Wade was, right…Matt?”  
  
-  
  
Jack stared at Officer Winslow, the shock on his face not one of an act. “What do you mean…he’s…Matt?”  
  
“We have, or rather, Detective Jones has evidence to prove that for the past six years, Matt Fischbach has been using the identity of his twin brother, Mark Fischbach. This also connects him to the, now murders, of both his brother and a friend of his, Bob, who I mentioned earlier.”  
  
He opened his mouth to speak again, but soon closed it. It didn’t change anything. Mark was still Mark. Well…Matt, but…he was still the same person. His name didn’t mean anything, but the more he thought about it, the more anxious he got. It was just another part of hiding his past. Mark, no, Matt…no…Mark…he wasn’t sure what to call him anymore. The point is…he is still the same person as he was when Jack met him. He realized he hadn’t said anything in quite a while. “So…it’s more possible than I thought then…that he’s…killed someone.”  
  
“I’m afraid so. It’s actually a case closed, really. Detective Jones has all the evidence he needs after re-opening the case several months ago. I don’t know why, but he insisted to talk to him, question him.”  
  
Jack could imagine why. With all that information he had on his past that he tried so hard to hide. _Sadistic bastard…_  
  
-  
  
At the use of his birth name, Mark clenched his fist. “I’m not Matt…”  
  
“No? Okay, then. Let me put this into better perspective for you. Nine months ago I reopened an old case about a murder-suicide. Something just didn’t feel right about it. Yes, it’s true, Matt Fischbach had, and if it is him in front of me right now, I imagine, still has, depression, so it is plausible to think that this could have been the tragedy of a young man committing suicide, but why did he kill his best and, according to many, only friend, Bob? That was when I talked to your mother. It wasn’t long before she passed, but she told me a few interesting facts. How the two twins were incredibly close as children, but drifted apart in their early teenage years. She was sad, worried even, that Mark had found a boyfriend, Wade, but her other son was more isolated and didn’t go out with either his brother or his brother’s boyfriend like they had when they were children. It seemed that Matt was left behind by the other two who were always too preoccupied with each other to realize they were leaving out someone who was close to them. She told me stories about how the three of you would play as children and she always thought that it was cute that the two twins both had crushes on the same boy. She also told me that, when Matt was a boy, not only did he have depression, but perhaps some other issues as well. He could be extremely violent and she even saw him kill a poor little animal. She didn’t do anything about it, which was a poor choice on her end, but nevertheless.” He took a breath. “So there was Matt, who had a resentment toward his brother for dating the same man that he liked and, while jealous, also had problems with controlling his violent behavior. This violent behavior builds up and he lashes out at whoever is around…see where I’m going with this?”  
  
“I do. But all I hear is the fact that it’s a complete bullshit fairytale story that you made up. Proof? Yeah, sure, proof. Good luck selling that to the judge.”  
  
“You misunderstand me. That’s not all my evidence, in fact, that’s merely a small portion.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few photos, some of Matt, some of Mark. “Despite what everyone thinks, twins aren’t completely identical, especially as they start to get older.” He stood up from his chair. “The more I looked at these pictures, the more I found the differences and after seeing autopsy reports and pictures of that and even looking at you now…you’re not Mark.” Before he could speak up, the detective continued to speak. “Mark had a decent sized birthmark on his left collarbone and,” He moved his shirt collar to the side just enough to see where the birthmark should be. “Matt, just as you, did not have one.”  
  
“Big whoop. The birthmark could have just faded away. They do that sometimes.” He said, putting the collar of shirt back the way he wanted it to be.  
  
“But, this picture was taken a week before ‘Matt’ died and, when you look at the photos from the autopsy, that same birthmark that Mark had is found on the body.” He saw the other open his mouth, so he spoke quickly. “Maybe the old pictures just got mixed up, right? That’s what you’re thinking? Some kind of fluke, but no, in every single picture I have of Mark Fischbach, from when he was three months old to when he was 18 years old, the same birthmark was there. Not only the birthmark, but several other features. I also searched your childhood home and your current house was just searched. They're on their way back right now with everything they found. If you’d like me to explain everything I found prior as well, just tell me. I’d be happy to have story time in here.” He looked so smug with himself.  
  
“Go…fuck yourself…I’m not Matt! I’m not! I’m Mark!” He knew he sounded pitiful, he felt it as well. He was Mark…he’d been for years. Matt was…Matt was worthless. He _was_ Mark.  
  
“I think I’m done here.” He smirked, walking to leave the room, but the door opened first. “What is he doing here?” He asked.  
  
Officer Winslow stood with Jack behind her. “I’m sorry, but he wished to see Mr. Fischbach to talk to him for a very short period of time.”  
  
Detective Jones looked at Jack, who looked innocent and if the officer trusted him maybe he should too. “Alright, come in.” He said, closing the door once Jack stepped inside. “You have one minute.”  
  
Jack looked at Mark and for the first time he saw him in an extremely dark place. He looked…he didn’t even want to think it. Mark wasn’t weak, he wasn’t pitiful. He was a strong man who’d probably been through hell with this detective. He went over to sit in the chair across from Mark, not touching him because, as Officer Winslow informed him, he wasn’t allowed to. “Mark…”  
  
Mark looked up at him, both happy and frustrated that he was seeing him right now. “Jack…”  
  
“It’s great to see you.” He gave him a smile. “Listen to me.” He made sure Mark was looking at him directly, making eye contact. “We’re gonna get you out of here. We’ll find a lawyer. We’ll knock this thing out of the park. We’re gonna go back home. It’s all okay…understand?”  
  
“Yeah…I understand.” Mark looked down at the table.  
  
“Good.” He stood up from the seat and looked at Detective Jones, holding his hand out for a handshake. When the detective shook his hand, he smiled at him and then, with all his might, slammed his head against the wall and then crouched down to steal his gun. He stood up and turned to Mark, who looked up at him with a smirk on the face. He held out his hand, which Mark took instantly. Then they ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting three parts at the same time. There's this chapter, which is like any other, and then two other chapters which are each a different ending, both taking place directly after chapter 7.  
> You choose which one you like more and completely throw the other one in the trash if you really want to. It's up to you to decide which one, for you, is the "true" ending to this fic.

They ran as fast as they could, hand in hand. They both knew where they were going and what would happen when they got there. They were being chased quite quickly, but they hid behind trees in dense paths as they made their way towards their destination. They didn’t say anything, the only sounds they heard were running and gunshots, both of the ones chasing them and of Jack, who shot back, mumbling something under his breath that only he knew the meaning of. At some point, he’d stopped shooting, just focusing on running as fast as he could, trying to keep up with Mark even though he knew he would die before leaving him behind.  
  
They lost the police eventually, but they both understood that there was only a short amount of time before they would be found again. They finally got to their destination and ran inside, into the home they’d been living in. There was no where else for them to go. If they ran, they would be chased, if they tried to find a place to hide, they would be found because no place they knew of was good enough to hide from what was chasing after them. There was no one helping them. They were alone.

They looked around, thankful the police left a while ago, no trace of them there, so they both ran to the bedroom and closed the door, locking it tightly. They stopped to take a breath and then their eyes met and they held onto each other like it was the last time.  
  
“You didn’t need to do this.” Mark spoke. “You didn’t have to lose everything for someone like me. It's not worth it. You can still run somehow!” He pulled back to look at him, look at those beautiful eyes that he loved so much. “They have everything on me. I can't escape from this, not like last time. I wouldn't know where to go, what to do. If I tried to escape now, it wouldn't be long until they find me. All I have are my legs to keep me going, but I wouldn't be fast enough to get anywhere safe, and this sad, empty house...but if you go, you can...you can..." The more he thought about it, the more he realized that even if Jack wanted to run, there was nowhere for him to go to hide, to try to escape. They share a house, so he can't go home to plan an escape. His friends are dead, so he can't ask them for any favors, can't use them to hide. He'd assaulted a detective and stole their weapon. There was no way he could escape from this. Jack was fucked...and it was all because of him. It was his fault.

Jack saw Mark slowly descending deeper into that person he'd seen earlier, that person who had given up. He grabbed Mark's hand and gripped it tightly. "We both know neither of us can get away from this. The police are pretty pissed at the both of us." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "I beat up that detective and I still have the gun to prove it." He said, raising it up, then putting it in his pocket. "And looks like they found some dirt on you, too. Like, a mountain of it."

Mark looked at him, a little shocked. "Did they tell you…?” Of course they told him. They wanted him to keep away from someone like him, so he wouldn't get in trouble. Too late for that.  
  
“They told me that you killed some people. Big surprise." He paused and took a deep breath. "They also told me that I didn’t know you like I thought I did. Now, to be honest, I never knew much about you at all, nothing about your past, anyway. Then names came up that had no meaning to me and I started to wonder what exactly happened that you’ve never talked about. The more I thought about it, the more I realized…it didn’t matter. Mark, Matt, I don’t care which it is. It doesn’t change anything. Why would it? I don't need to know about your past because the past is over. Right now it's me and you. I love you and I'm not gonna stop because of your identity or whatever. I decided to stay with you and I promise, I'll never leave.”

"I-"  
  
There were loud, quick footsteps outside the house. It wouldn’t be long now before they came up here.  
  
Jack grabbed Mark’s hand and they both sat down on the ground next to the bed, leaning against it. He took out the gun he’d stolen from the police officer, facing Mark. They both knew what they were going to do.  
  
“One bullet?”  
  
“One bullet.”  
  
Mark put his hand on the back of Jack’s head, pulling him in for a kiss, pressing their foreheads together when they parted. This was really the end, then? He felt the gun at the back of his head. Ideally, when Jack pulls the trigger, the gun should have enough force to kill the both of them, passing through Mark to get to Jack. They heard a door open and the closer the footsteps got, the shakier he could feel Jack’s hand become. He reached up, putting his hand over Jack’s, so they pull the trigger together. He steadied Jack's hand, making sure the gun was in the right place. There were sounds right outside the door. They had to do this now or never. “I love you.”


	8. Ending #1

They pulled the trigger and the sound echoed throughout the house, the streets. Nothing could be heard in that moment except the gunshot and then a sob. Jack felt Mark’s weight against him, his entire body shaking as he hugged his body, blood soaking his clothes. He cried, the only thing he could do in the moment. Mark’s last words were, “I love you”, directed towards Jack and he only wished he could have said the same back to him over and over again.  
  
Jack’s hand, already weak in that moment, hadn’t anticipated the recoil the gun would have and, at the last second, his hand slipped and instead of shooting through the both of them, it killed Mark and only hit Jack in the shoulder. His entire body felt fragile. When he heard the door open, the yells for him to drop the gun and show him his hands filled the room. He turned to them. They all had guns in their hands, ready to injure or kill if need be. He smiled to himself, a tear dripping down onto his arm as he raised the gun, still holding Mark close to his chest. The shots started and his arm dropped as quickly as it was raised, falling lifeless against the other man.  
  
Their hands were still locked together, never letting go.


	9. Ending #2

The door opened quickly, “Wait!” A man yelled, grabbing the gun from them. He didn’t look like he was after them and he actually looked relieved as he tucked the gun in the back of his pants. “You have to hurry.”  
  
“Who are you?” Mark asked, clenching his fist. Even though he had a feeling this man was trying to hurt him it didn't mean he had to like him. He kept his guard up just in case something happened.  
  
“There’s no time for introductions. Now come the fuck on! There’s thirty seconds tops before the police get here, so we gotta go! Follow me!” He said, leaving the room.  
  
Mark and Jack both looked at each other and then Mark grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him out of the room to follow the mysterious man. He could tell Jack was still extremely shaken up from the situation before. He must not have liked the idea of dying, or maybe the idea or Mark dying, or this all coming to an end the way it almost did. He looked at Jack, who was quiet, and squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Where are we going?”  
  
“Somewhere you’ll be a lot safer than out here.” The three of them went into a neighboring house, happily greeting the woman who lived there. They went into the basement and only stood there for a moment, the man trying to get something out of his pocket. He took out a key and smiled at Mark and Jack, such an innocent and happy smile. He moved a couple boxes out of the way and then moved a rug to reveal what looked like a hidden door.  
  
“Seems a little convoluted.”  
  
“But it keeps us safe.” He unlocked and opened the door, revealing a ladder heading down. He stood up and stepped to the side, looking at them confidently. “After you.”  
  
Mark nodded, deciding it was a good idea to listen to the man right now. If it was any other situation, he would've already broken his nose and demand control of the situation. “I’ll go first.” He said, letting go of Jack to head down the ladder, hearing the other two follow closely behind. He looked around, seeing at least ten other people there, all in a large lit room. There were beds, a kitchen, doors to other rooms…it was suspicious. He felt someone grab his hand and knew it was Jack. “Any idea where we are?” He whispered to him.  
  
Jack shook his head. “No idea.”  
  
“I know you’re confused.” The man said. “But everything will be cleared up soon, I promise. My name is Ryan. Nice to finally meet you two.” He smiled, overjoyed “I’ve noticed you two around for a long time, but I never said or did anything because I know how stubborn killers can be. I married one.” He laughed, but then noticed the confusion still on their faces. “We’re a group of people, a family, I guess, made up of criminals. We rely on each other and keep each other safe.” He looked towards where the others were. “There’s anyone from thieves to killers here, but one thing we can’t stand is rapists, so we kill them. Me, I’ve never killed anyone, but my husband has for years now. We started this whole thing as a way to find others like us and ‘unite’ them.” He stopped in case they had any questions, but continued on when neither of them spoke up. “But enough explaining that. As I was saying before, I noticed you two and when I saw the police at your door, I knew it was my chance to introduce you to this family of ours. I think you would make a good addition. What do you say? It’s either here or you can try to survive on your own outside. Of course, it’ll take a while for the hype about you to die down, but we might be able to make it look like you two died…”  
  
At this point both Mark and Jack stopped listening, instead thinking in their own minds, trying to make a decision. The two looked at each other and, after a few seconds, they nodded, understanding each other. “I think we’ve made a decision.” Mark said, Ryan looking at him expectantly. “We’ll stay...for now.” Mark looked at Jack, knowing that this was someone he loved and he wouldn’t miss the chance to spend more of his life with him. Jack felt the same way as him, he was sure.  
  
“Great!” Ryan clasped his hands together. “Welcome to your new home!”  
  
Together they would start yet another new life and if it didn’t work out for them, well, they would find another path, just the two of them. No matter what, it was the two of them together and nothing could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that's the end!  
> Now, there's a few things I want to say. One is that the two endings are much different, but both two completely plausible endings. The first ending is just if he didn't get to them in time, but rather the police arrived first and the second ending is, well, the opposite of that.  
> The second thing is a question. Two actually.  
> So I have an entire prequel planned out of Mark's life when he was younger leading up to when he met Jack, which would be interesting and would clarify any questions people may have about that and make it more understandable. So, I don't know if anyone is interested in that, but tell me what you think (though at this point I think it's a necessity).  
> And then also tell me if you want me to make a sequel which would take place if the events of the second ending happened of them living with the others, which may guest star some other youtubers (game grumps). It might be little one shots, it might be a mini series, but I doubt it'll turn into a big thing. I'd have to figure that out later. As I was writing the second ending, I felt like I could make something out of it if I tried and I kinda want to and it would explain more about who Ryan is and how he knows them and what exactly he does, but your opinions will be the ending judge for that.  
> I hope that you are okay with these endings. I felt that I shouldn't drag on some of this too long, especially since they were together now and they're literally serial killers, so their content life together wouldn't last too long. I knew the first ending was going to happen way back when I wrote chapter 2, but as I wrote more, the second ending came to mind and it was kinda this weird, but cool thing...I don't know. Just tell me what you think. :)  
> Also, I want to clarify that even though I continued using the name "Mark", this Mark's birth name is Matt and he did in fact steal his brother's identity after his death, pretending it was Matt who died instead of Mark, so he could live Mark's life instead of his own.  
> Thank you guys so much for reading all the way through. <3


End file.
